19 January, 2022

Read an #Excerpt from Satin and Sapphire by Reet Singh - @AuthorReet #Romance


Danger meets delight in Asar Kalan!

Dr Danvir Sandhu has been dealt a cruel hand – his house of cards comes tumbling down when he loses, one by one, all the things that bring meaning to his life. He has barely found equilibrium when a serendipitous event brings Latika Anand into his orbit, and he struggles to stay aloof even as his heart yearns for a future with the maddeningly enticing fashion designer.

Considerably bruised after a break up that is as unexpected as it is callous, Latika is thrown into an even more precarious situation that threatens her life. Both experiences convince her to return to her roots and tackle old demons even if it means denying the attraction she feels for a certain utterly fascinating physician.

Book Links:
Goodreads * Amazon.in * Amazon.com * Other Platforms

Read an Excerpt from Satin and Sapphire

I cried for three whole days in Raminder's flat. My childhood friend let me do whatever I wanted for those three days, but on the fourth morning she came into the spare bedroom, put her hands on her curvy hips and glared at me.

'Enough,' she declared. 'Bath. Food. Talk. In that order.' Reaching for the crumpled tissues that lay at my feet with one hand and for my wrist with the other, she helped me upright off the rug.

I didn't resist. I was starving. In fact, I hadn't eaten much of anything since the morning of my eviction from Danny's stupid flat.

Plus, I was bored silly moping in self-inflicted solitude. I would have preferred to have eaten right away, but the militant gleam in Rammi's eyes impelled me into the attached bathroom.

I emerged a while later, scrubbed clean and smelling of lavender, and even hungrier than I'd been earlier. Rammi stood near the entrance to my room with a cotton sack in her hands. 'Dump your clothes in this,' she said, scrunching up her nose as I approached. 'They're not going into my washing machine, thank you very much.'

I sighed but did as she suggested. They did smell foul. I'd grabbed whatever I could in my hurry to get out of Danny's flat that day. The shirt was an old, comfortable one of mine and I would be sorry to see it go, but the track pant was Danny's and I couldn't care less if Rammi flushed it down the toilet. I was so done with mourning Danny - Danny the Dastardly.

After a huge breakfast that threw my diet plan completely off, we carried our coffees to the lounge and settled down to talk.

'Thanks for going over there to retrieve my stuff,' I told Rammi. 'I couldn't bear to. I don't want to ever see him again.'

'It wasn't a problem. In any case, he wasn't home. I would likely have punched him in the face if he'd been around, so it was just as well he kept away.'

I could picture Danny cowering before the righteous wrath of my tall and hefty friend and it should have made me smile, but I was too emotionally wrung out to enjoy the vision.

'What are your plans, Latika? You have to get out of your funk, no?'

I sighed. 'I have no plans, Rammi. I'm jobless, broke, and royally ditched. I'm going to wait for the universe to show me what else it has up its sleeve for me before I make any plans. You know better than anyone how the universe likes to play with me.'

'It's nothing to do with the universe. You quit your lovely, high-paying job by choice. You turned down a promotion that—'

'I did, but that's because I had a dream. I was sick of trudging to and back from work generating ideas for other people's projects.'

'Then why blame the universe? You still have your dream...'

I wanted to throw up my hands in despair, but that would have sloshed coffee onto Rammi's cream-colored fabric lounger, so I reached over to the side table and set the cup down before responding to her idiotic assumption about my dream.

'I can't dream when I'm broke and recently ditched,' I asserted.

Reet Singh is eye surgeon, poet and romance writer. She loves reading and watching comedies, especially those of the romantic kind, and adores crochet – so much that she is running out of people to gift lacy woolen scarves and caps to. Blessed with a mother who introduced her to the world of the imagination, a father who served in the army, a husband who is exactly what she needed, and two sons (grown now) who were always getting into scrapes, Reet has lots of stories to tell. She lives in the North of India with her much-adored husband in a beautiful empty nest that has a good supply of coffee and chocolates and yoga mats.

Reet on the Web:

1 comment:

  1. Tha<nk you so much - thrilled to see my book featured here!